


tolerated

by lovelybluemoon



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/M, I identify as a swiftie, Josephine needs some love, Loveless Marriage, Neglect, One-sided pining??, Song - tolerate it by Taylor Swift, Songfic, Technically major character death, Tolerance, Unrequited Love, because of course it is, cause in this fic Josephine is TECHNICALLY a major character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelybluemoon/pseuds/lovelybluemoon
Summary: You assume I'm fine but what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins? Take this dagger in me and remove it? Gain the weight of you then lose it--but could I do it?
Relationships: Stefan Hawkes/Josephine Hawkes
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	tolerated

**Author's Note:**

> The mad woman is back at it again. 
> 
> Read while listening to [tolerate it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukxEKY_7MOc) by [Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCqECaJ8Gagnn7YCbPEzWH6g).

_ I sit and watch you reading with your head low _

_ I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed _

_ I sit and watch you _

_ I notice everything you do or don’t do _

_ You’re so much older and wiser, and I... _

_ \--- _

The first time she met him, he was simply a younger image of what he would grow up to be. 

It was just her mistake for thinking that such a vision was beautiful.

“Come and say hello, Josephine,” her father called from the other room. “The Hawkes are joining us for tea today.”

Closing her book, she hopped down from the large chair with twin clicks of her shoes. When she came into the living room, she saw her parents, and the people who she presumed were the Hawkes.

The young boy sitting in between his parents regarded her with his icy eyes. She wasn’t focused on how cold they seemed, just the sheer color of those irises. How blue they were! Gleaming, inviting waters that pulled her in, helpless as a sinking ship.

“It’s rude to stare,” the boy chided quietly, drawing her attention. 

“Oh! Sorry,” she said, glancing at his parents to see if they would say something about his comment. 

But they did not.

And neither did hers.

_ \--- _

_ I wait by the door like I’m just a kid _

_ Use my best colors for your portrait  _

_ Lay the table with the fancy sh*t _

_ And watch you tolerate it _

_ \--- _

The next time they met it was in the garden. On a day where the sun is particularly scorching, when one would sit in the shade and sip tea while watching people in their summer colors pass by.

That was exactly where young Josephine found herself that day, perched on the cozy window seat of her room and gazing out past the glass.

She was worried about the flowers. The heat was too overbearing for their delicate beauty, and that was what urged her to slip downstairs to the garden.

But when she stepped onto the soft grass, a tiny “ _ Oh! _ ” escaped her lips, because the boy with the blue eyes was sitting there at the patio table, reading.

Her squeak had those miniature oceans pinned on her at once, the split second of surprise soon replaced by his usual air of calm.

“I’m just here to--to water the plants,” she blurted, her eyes round as she stared at him. 

“Well, go on.” His eyebrow lifted, questioning, and she scurried past him to greet the begonias.

_ \--- _

_ If it’s all in my head tell me now _

_ Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow _

_ I know my love should be celebrated _

_ But you tolerate it _

_ \--- _

“I don’t think Stefan likes me,” Josephine announced at dinner. 

She’d learned his name shortly after their first meeting and clutched it to her heart as if it would disappear.

Her parents paused to look at their daughter, amusement and endearment shining in their eyes. 

“Whatever would make you think that, sweetheart?” Her father asked, among sounds of silverware chiming. 

Her lips drew into a pout and she answered, “He never talks to me. He’s always quiet, too.”

This time her mother laughed, a tinkling bell filled with mirth. 

“He’s going off to the militia when he becomes an adult, Josephine. He probably just doesn’t want to get too attached to anyone. His parents told us themselves.”

Without her permission, a new hope blossomed in her chest.

_ \--- _

_ I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome _

_ I take your indiscretions all in good fun _

_ I sit and listen _

_ I polish plates until they gleam and glisten _

_ You’re so much older and wiser, and I… _

_ \--- _

_ Years later _

_ Dear Josephine, _

_ As you may have already heard, the war is almost over. I will be returning soon, and am both surprised and relieved to have survived this battle. My parents have already notified me of our arranged marriage. I am pleased that you are to be my spouse. You know me better than any other woman would, thanks to those years we spent together as children. Upon my return we shall be wedded, and for a while you should not have to worry about losing me in the midst of war. I expect you’ve been well. Send my regards to your mother and father. _

_ \--Stefan Hawkes _

A soft, delighted gasp escaped her as her fingers curled tightly on the edges of the letter. Reading it once again, she paid no attention to how distant he sounded. How he had written a letter addressed not to his lover and future wife but rather someone he’d known and still knew enough to exchange pleasantries with.

She assumed that was perfectly normal—he made sure to always act and sound professional. 

—-

_ While you were out building other worlds where was I? _

_ Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?  _

_ I made you my temple, my mural, my sky _

_ Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life _

_ —- _

Josephine Hawkes sat at the grand piano in her new home, her fingers absentmindedly brushing over the keys before hesitantly pressing one. It created a careful, deliberate melody of slow, broken notes  _ plinking _ in her ear. 

She played slowly, afraid of making a mistake. It felt no different than trying to speak to her husband, giving each syllable a generous amount of thought. He never told her much about his work, and every meal they managed to share felt stale. 

But she loved him, she could bear walking on eggshells around him. And so she continued to play her haunting chords, empty as the secret hole in her heart. 

_ \--- _

_ Drawing hearts in the byline _

_ Always taking up too much space or time _

_ You assume I’m fine, but what would you do if I— _

_ \--- _

Her bottled heartbreak finally caught up to her moments before she collapsed into indefinite years of bedrest and the company of countless pills catching in her throat.

Rafael was gone, William was always at work, and who knew what her husband was doing?

Over the years her mind slipped into delusion. She stayed frozen in her memories. Trying to reach the better days of her past locked behind a wall of misted glass. In her tiny world she let herself imagine--

Would things be different if they’d never met, years ago?

Or would she find herself back in the same cycle with a different man, in another loveless marriage where she was only tolerated?

_ \--- _

_ Break free and leave us in ruins? _

_ Took this dagger in me and removed it? _

_ Gain the weight of you, then lose it _

_ But could I do it? _

_ \--- _

Josephine could hear her name being called. 

_ Josephine, come and say hello. _

_ Dear Josephine. _

_ Was this all in her head? _

_ Had she gotten it wrong? _

She sat up in her bed, and a little bird appeared out of nowhere. Its lovely golden feathers beckoned to her, and she pushed the sheets aside. The ground welcomed her feet, she had not walked solid earth in forever.

Following the sound of the carefree birdcall, she saw endless sky, felt the wind upon her cheek.  _ What a beautiful way of earning closure, _ she thought. And it was, for the woman who had been tolerated her entire life, who deserved all the love in the world, who would finally be celebrated among the clouds that moved across eternity. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "Begonias are meant to be signs of caution and warning about future misfortunes, but they also represent love, innocence and passion according to their colours."
> 
> Believe you me this flower symbolism was actually unintentional but looks like things worked out for me huh?  
> After listening to and singing evermore on repeat since it came out, I had been scouring for parallels or those 'suddenly inspired must write' moods that first kicked off my songfic obsessions. And one day this happened. 
> 
> I am, to be honest, not in the best of places emotionally these days but thanks to some good friends and their kind words I'm working on healing. It's not gonna happen overnight, but I'm so grateful to my friends just being there for me. So to anyone else who is struggling or tolerated, perchance--I send hugs and emotional support. You deserve to be celebrated <3
> 
> Once again, many thanks to [Ex_Nihilo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ex_Nihilo/pseuds/Ex_Nihilo) for BR-ing this work--you're the best :> And thank you to all of you who read and enjoyed, I love you all <3 --Love, June  
> P.S. Did you catch the other Taylor Swift song refs in there?


End file.
